


The Bet

by ainm



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, challenge, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainm/pseuds/ainm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim & Blair go hiking, make a bet, and have a revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

## The Bet

#### by ainm

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/ainm66/TS/index.html>  
Not mine, making no money, intending no copyright infringement.  
Thanks to everyone at Sentinel Thursday for making 2004 a great year for TS fic! :-)  
Written for the Sentinel Thursday challenge to use the words "It's a bet." Mild angst followed by mild h/c followed by mild schmoop. :-) Rated R for language rather than anything more exciting. :-)  


* * *

"It's a bet." 

I didn't think he could last this long, but he's been silent for about 20 minutes now. 

I tease him about it a lot, but really I don't mind his endless chatter about everything and nothing. On a normal day, I wouldn't mind him rambling on about the medicinal properties of a mushroom he spotted a few feet off the trail, or the unusual shape of the cumulo-whatever overhead, or the social implications of the incomprehensible Aussie joke that Connor told last week. 

But today... today I am just overloaded -- overworked, overwhelmed, over-exposed to too many people and too much chaos after yet another crazy on the loose in Cascade, city of psychos... 

I was half-tempted to take off on my own, come up here hiking in the peace and quiet and not worry about anything but just getting settled back down after the case from hell. 

But... I _would_ worry. I'd worry about Blair, worry a bit that he'd find a way to get himself into trouble while I was gone, worry mostly that by going I'd hurt his feelings. Again. Worry that I'd get that _look_ , that "I thought we were friends, why are you pushing me away?" look. I _hate_ that look, and I hate that I cause it far too often. 

I might fight the obvious sometimes, but I _have_ eventually learned that it is in the best interests of all involved to do whatever it takes to avoid that look. Bad things happen after the look, ranging from the minor (like me feeling guilty as hell) to the nearly-calamitous (like the fake plague) to the truly horrific (I try not to think about the fountain and the press conference head-on). 

Besides -- it's not like Detective Sandburg hasn't had a shit week himself. He deserves a nice outing as much as I do -- maybe more, since he had to put up with his asshole partner through it all. 

And it's not a good idea to go up a mountain alone, even if you aren't actually scaling a rock face or anything too dangerous. Anything can happen, after all. 

Yes, I'm fighting the obvious again -- the main reason that I wanted him to come with me is because I can barely stand to be apart from him anymore. I want him with me all the time, no matter where we are or what we're doing -- hiking this hill, fighting crazy-ass terrorists, arguing over which regional Asian cuisine to carry out for dinner, relaxing in bed after a rough day... 

OK, so we don't get to share that last one, or any other variation on the bed theme. All the more reason to make the most of the things we _do_ share, right? 

So I wanted him with me today, I admit it... but I _needed_ the quiet, too. I'm not the extrovert that he is, plus my senses have been just rubbed raw lately. I could have just explained it to him, I guess, but somehow these things always seem to come out wrong, and I didn't want to run the risk of getting that look... 

So I appealed to his sometimes-startling spirit of competition and bet him he couldn't stay quiet all the way to the clearing we're heading for. Yeah, I feel a little odd about being willing to pay him to be quiet -- but I can handle it. 

The idea, though, was to be using this time to fill my senses with the natural tranquility around me -- and instead I'm totally ignoring the sights and sounds and scents of the mountain and just thinking about Blair. Damn. 

Aggravated, I resolutely turn my focus outward and try to lose myself in the scenery. It's a beautiful day, cool but not cold -- especially with the workout we're getting -- and the leaves are starting to turn. I spend several moments inhaling the crisp smell of the drying leaves and seeking out spots of color all around me before I turn my attention to the sounds of the woods. 

Above my own footsteps I can hear small animals in the underbrush, and birds that are flying overhead, perhaps heading south to escape the drear of the inevitable Washington winter -- damn. I _knew_ he was being too quiet... 

Blair hasn't spoken for more than half an hour, but he _is_ making sounds, now that I'm aware enough to notice... pained, limping sounds behind me. I stop and turn to face him, obviously startling him -- his eyes go wide and as he stops to avoid running into me, he puts weight on his left foot and almost goes down. He catches himself before I can, though. 

"Damn it, Sandburg, what did you do?" 

He puts his hand on his hip and scowls at me silently. 

"Oh, forget the damned bet, what have you done to yourself?" 

He just shakes his head at me. God, he says _I'm_ stubborn? I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, fish out a ten, and hand it over. 

"You _win_ , OK? Now what have you done?" 

The look on his face isn't _quite_ a smirk, but given what I can judge from his vital signs, he's probably in too much pain to muster up a full smirk. "Nothing," he tells me. Of course. 

"Oh for god's sake, Chief, let's not play elementary school here, OK? Obviously you've hurt your ankle -- why didn't you tell me?" 

"It's not that bad. Besides, I won the bet, right?" 

"It might not have started _out_ bad, but hiking up and back down this trail can't be helping it any -- is ten bucks really worth it?" 

He gives me the "you're so dense, Jim" look -- not a personal favorite -- and shakes his head. 

"It's not about the _money_ , Jim, it's the principal of the thing." 

Now _I_ shake my head. "Look, let's discuss your principles later -- we need to have a look at your ankle." I do a quick scan of the area and find a rocky outcropping just off the trail a few hundred yards ahead. 

"Come on, Chief, lean on me and we can sit down just up there." 

He doesn't look pleased, but he's not stupid, and puts an arm around my waist. I support him with my left arm and try not to think about how solid and warm and _right_ he feels pressed up against my side as we hobble toward the rocks ahead. 

It's all I can do, though, to stifle a gasp when his fingers slip under my windbreaker, under my shirt, and brush the skin just above my waistband as I bend to help him ease himself down onto a flat rock. Just one fleeting and unintentional touch and he has me ready to forget the injury and reality and just pounce. 

But of course I don't. Rather I sit down across from him on another rock and pat my knee with a nod toward the injured left leg. Obligingly he lifts the foot and rests it on my knee for me to examine. 

I push up his pants leg and gently pull down the sock that had been extending out of the short boots he's wearing. I don't want to take the boot off in case we can't get it back on again -- he'll need the boot for stabilization and protection on the way back down. 

I don't have to touch the skin to feel the heat coming from the already swelling ankle. First things first -- I awkwardly dig in my backpack, trying not to dislodge his foot, and pull out an instant cold pack. As I squeeze to activate it, I catch his eye and find that he's looking at me with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance. I arch an eyebrow his direction. 

"I didn't know you had that," he says. 

I put the ice pack where I can tell the muscle is strained. "I hope you didn't, because if you knew I had it and didn't ask for it right away, I'd be even more annoyed than I already am." 

He opens his mouth and it seems that he's going to argue, but suddenly he just... deflates, and only a small sigh comes out. 

"I don't _try_ to cause trouble, Jim." 

"Of course you don't, Chief. I just don't understand why the bet was so important that you would risk serious injury to win." 

"It wasn't that I wanted to win the bet, it was just..." 

"Just what?" I prompt when he shows no sign of continuing. 

He sighs again. "'Lean on me,' you said. But I do that too much." 

Now I'm sighing with him. "I'm not getting it." 

"I didn't need to win the bet per se, it's just that I always find a way to cause you trouble, even when I don't mean to, and I know that you really needed some down time today, and I was trying to give you that, I really was, but something always goes wrong!" He tries to pull his leg off mine, but I grab his knee and keep him where he is. 

"Come on, Blair, shit happens to everybody -- you're a big help to me, not a burden. You know that." Doesn't he? 

"You haven't needed much help with your senses in ages." 

"Jeez, Sandburg, I'm not just talking about my senses! Fuck the senses -- though you _do_ help there, you've taught me how _not_ to need your direct intervention 24/7 but you still help me, being there to ground me, suggesting ways to use them that I'd never think of on my own, but that's hardly all there is to this partnership!" I'm getting mad now... I don't understand where he's coming from with this, but I hate this feeling that he's lessening what we have somehow. 

"Oh, yeah, don't forget my role as faithful but clumsy sidekick, got the same title as the hero but not half the respect, barely getting the job done --" 

"Blair! No! No," I stop him. I find I'm squeezing his knee spasmodically, and try to soothe it instead. "Look, it was a horrible case, and you weren't the only one angry and frustrated and feeling unworthy of the badge and the title 'Detective' when the only thing you were detecting was that we were in a heap of shit. It happens to _everybody_ , Blair, it's not just you. I know I was thinking it many times last week. What I mean is, that's a cop thing, that's not an us thing." 

"An 'us' thing?" Uh oh... maybe I went a little too far -- but there's no way I'm letting him continue to feel this way. 

"I mean, you're not my _sidekick_ , Sandburg, you're my _partner_ , the only partner I want." 

I hadn't consciously realized how much tension there was in his body until I feel it leave him. Good. 

"I just don't want to let you down, make more work for you," he admits softly. 

"Hey, a partnership is about give and take -- we both have our strengths and our weaknesses, and I think we've learned how to take advantage of the one and minimize the other. It makes me... I feel... I just don't like you badmouthing my partner." 

I don't know that I'm making any sense, but I get a small smile out of him nonetheless, and that's a good thing. 

"I lean on you too, Chief," I tell him, and it's so true. I don't know what I would do if he weren't there to lean on, in countless ways over the course of a day, a week... forever... 

He sniffs, a slight but disparaging sound. 

I take issue with the implication in that noise. "Just because I don't let you know very often doesn't mean it isn't true." 

Suddenly I realize that I'm stroking his knee and down his calf, and apparently he realizes it at the same time. I look at my hand, then his face, then my hand again, and his glances mirror mine in a way that would probably seem comical if the tension hadn't suddenly ratcheted way up. 

"Your partnership is very important to me, Jim," he says to me as we both watch my hand, which seems to be moving of its own accord in what would be hard to construe as anything other than a caress. 

"Yeah?" I ask softly, as I listen to his heartbeat start to race, feeling my own keeping pace. 

"Partnership... has many different meanings..." It sounds like he isn't sure where to go with this, and I'm almost afraid to hope he's headed where it seems. We continue to watch my hand. 

"Yeah," I agree. God, is that really my voice? It sounds... different. Apparently he thinks so too, because he puts his hand over mine, stilling the motion. 

"I... get frustrated sometimes, I lose sight of just how our... partnership appears to you," he admits, oh so quietly. 

I am so torn... what is the right answer here? If he doesn't really mean what I want him to mean... I don't want to imagine what kind of look _that_ revelation might bring... but how can I deny him? 

"I'm no good at the words, Blair... but never doubt that our partnership is the most important thing to me." 

I take his hand between my own, stroking the backs of his fingers in a way that cannot be misconstrued. He sucks in a quick breath, and suddenly I realize that this is it, we've finally gotten where we've been heading all these years. 

"And you mean partnership in all senses of the word, Jim?" he asks me in a hesitant tone that about breaks my heart. 

"I want your partnership in any and every way I can get it, Blair," I tell him confidently, the need to reassure him overcoming my instinct to keep my feelings to myself. I take one hand from his and reach out to touch his face. He trembles slightly, and covers my hand with his own once more, pressing my fingers gently to his cheek. 

I feel like I can't breathe, like maybe I might shatter with one wrong move, but with impeccable timing, he lightens the mood by letting go my hand and announcing, "This is so cool!" 

"Glad you think so -- I'm assuming we're on the same page here then?" 

"Oh, _yeah_ ," he assures me with a smile so wide I can't help laugh with him. How the hell did it go from being an impossible dream to normal and easy in just a matter of minutes? We just stare at each other for a few moments, then he takes the ice pack out from the top of his boot. 

"Time to head back down? We have a lot of... _discussing_ to do," he tells me with a look that promises much more than talk. 

I nod. "So do I need to make another bet with you to get you to accept my help getting down the hill here, Chief?" 

"No, I don't think that'll be necessary. I've got plenty of motivation without it," he grins. 

Me too, Chief, and that's an understatement. I smile as I help him up off the rock to head toward home. 

* * *

End The Bet by ainm: ainm@livejournal.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
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